


The Wreckoning

by Archetype_ElectraHeart



Series: And We Danced... [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 03:43:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1967664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archetype_ElectraHeart/pseuds/Archetype_ElectraHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brienne is the new hip hop instructor at King's Landing Dance Academy and Jaime, as usual, is kind of an ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wreckoning

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of surprised there doesn't seem to be another Dancer AU for Jaime and Brienne, because it made a lot of sense in my head. 
> 
> Title is from The Wreckoning by Boomkat. I picture Brienne dancing to Werkin' Girls by Angel Haze.
> 
> Flying without a beta, and brand new to AO3, so I hope you enjoy!

Jaime Lannister had been teaching contemporary dance classes at the King’s Landing Academy for nearly three years, and all in all it wasn’t a bad gig. The students were dedicated, if not universally gifted, and it kept him out from under his father’s overly-controlling thumb. Dance was hardly the career his father would have chosen for him, but since Tyrion had obliging studied business and Cersei was willing to blindly do whatever father told her, his father seemed willing to let Jaime’s disobedience slide— at least temporarily.

 

The studio had been devoid of a hip hop instructor for months, after the last one had been booked on some pop-star’s tour of the Seven Kingdoms, but apparently a friend of Renly Baratheon’s (the flamingly gay Latin Ballroom instructor) was being brought on. Loras Tyrell (Renly’s boyfriend and one of the jazz instructors) had met her before and had been raving about her in the break room every time Jaime had walked in for the past week. It was getting a bit sickening really, and meant that Jaime was perhaps not in the best state of mind for the meet-and-greet that was bound to happen at some point before the studio closed that day.

 

The last person Jaime had expected to find in the hip hop studio was a 6’2 blonde woman with the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. She was paler than was fashionable, with a generous dusting of freckles along the bridge of her nose. Her nose was crooked, seemingly having been broken at one point, her shoulders broad, her mouth wide. She had short blonde hair, longer on one side than the other, and her clothes were far less flashy than the other dancers seemed to favor: baggy grey sweatpants under a white t shirt with plain black sneakers.

 

She was smiling politely at Renly, who seemed to be in the midst of telling her where everything was, down to the precise cabinet with her favorite tea in the break room. Jaime leaned against the wall to observe, trying to get a read on the new arrival. She didn’t hold herself with that particular brand of grace that usually accompanied a trained dancer, and with her build he couldn’t picture her in a contemporary or ballet class. _Renly’s brought us a one trick street pony. Wonderful._ Normally Jaime wouldn’t care, but the fact was, if she couldn’t dance any other styles then she couldn’t cover classes for any of the other teachers if/when they fell ill and management would probably look to replace her as soon as possible. Not to mention the parents would complain if their kids’ classes were interrupted by the loss of their 3rd hip hop teacher in as many years.

 

Loras suddenly appeared and dragged Jaime over to the blonde and Renly. “Brienne! This is Jaime Lannister— he’s one of our contemporary teachers. Jaime, this is Brienne Tarth.”

She looked uncomfortable, probably shy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Jaime didn’t quite manage to sound terribly sincere. Loras shot him a frosty glare.

 

 

Other instructors filed in, stopping by to greet the newbie before prepping in their own rooms. Jaime stayed, intrigued by Brienne’s seeming physical discomfort. How did someone that shy and uncomfortable in their own body expect to dance in front of strangers? He was fairly certain she could tell what he was thinking, because she kept glaring at him where he was leaning against the wall. Finally it was just Renly, Loras, Jaime, and Brienne in the room and she turned to face him, one eyebrow raised in defiance. “Let’s hear it then, Lannister.”

He didn’t really expect her to challenge him so directly. “You don’t exactly look like a dancer. So I guess I’m just a bit skeptical as to whether you’re qualified for the job. Although Loras has been so effusive in his praise that I would be remiss if I didn’t take the opportunity to see you dance for myself. I’m sure you could use a warm-up before your day begins.”

She visibly bristled at his tone, blue eyes blazing, and looked about ready to open her mouth and unleash on him when the first of her students wandered into the room, cutting her short. Jaime let out a derisive laugh. “Later then, Tarth. Best of luck on your first day.”

 

******

 

Rumors of his challenge to Brienne spread through the studio like wildfire. Some seemed to have similar reservations about the newcomer’s abilities and agreed (albeit begrudgingly) with Jaime, while others labeled him a pretentious asshole with a superiority complex who needed to learn how to shut his mouth. To his surprise, Brienne sent word around that she would be happy to put on a demonstration the next morning before classes started to anyone who wanted to come and watch.

Jaime made sure to arrive plenty early, impressed by her guts. He had figured her to be a bit more shy and retiring than all this. Brienne had on leggings and a cropped t shirt with the same sneakers as the day before. Even Jaime had to admit, the muscle definition in her abs and shoulders was impressive. After about five minutes, all the instructors were settled on the floor of the studio, with Brienne facing them. She said nothing, just queued up her music and started dancing.

 

She was _fast_. Her movements were so precise they almost looked robotic, and there was a power behind them that Jaime hadn’t expected. She mixed fast and slow, hard and smooth, seductive and angry in equal measure and in spite of himself Jaime was impressed. When she had finished she turned off the music and turned back to face everyone.

Correction: she turned to face Jaime, looking down at him on the floor. “Satisfied?”

Jaime smirked. “You’re good at what you do, no question. But your technique…?” He shrugged.

She gave a sharp nod and smirked back, almost like she could tell he was trying to save face. “I didn’t realize I was being judged on my classical technique, since I was hired as a hip hop instructor. But since you asked so nicely.”

She toed off her sneakers and stuffed her socks inside, leaving them on the floor in front of Jaime, and walked back into the center of the room. He watched her straighten her spine, and promptly enter first position. _No, there is no way._

Brienne launched into a series of fouette turns, fast and precise and technically perfect. Jaime lost count at ten rotations. She exited the sequence gracefully, silently. Gave him a perfectly radiant, defiant glare.

 

“Well played, Miss Tarth. Well played.”

 

******

 

The first time Jaime was alone with Brienne he walked into the break room while she was boiling water for tea. She had just got out of a class, and her hairline was beaded with sweat. He watched her movements with careful attention, noting how purposeful each of her movements were, how measured. Marveled at his own ignorance in not recognizing those subtle indications of a trained dancer. When he finally looked up at her face he realized she was analyzing him just as closely.

“What now, Lannister? You worried I’m not qualified to use the tea kettle?” Her tone was half mischief, half malice.

“From what little I’ve seen of your dancing, your technique is incredibly good— it must have taken years of hard work. So, why focus on hip hop?”

She leaned back against the counter and wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. “Because hip hop isn’t about beauty. It’s about power, and strength, and skill. And after all those years of hard work in proper classes I had to realize that a girl with a face like mine would never be the choice in ballet or contemporary. My jazz instructors just had me learn male choreography, wear male costumes. They couldn’t find me a partner tall enough in ballroom, even when their heels were higher than mine. Nobody gave a damn how good my technique was or how many fouettes I could nail in a row because I wasn’t _beautiful_.”

She spat it out like a curse. Jaime knew he had been guilty of the same thought.

“And as much as all you proper dancers like to look down on those unsophisticated street dancers, they didn’t give a shit what I looked like once they realized I could move.”

“So you learned on the street, not in a studio?”

“I didn’t grow up in the nicest areas. And it isn’t easy to get people to trust the teacher’s daughter. But we struck up a deal: they taught me how to dance like them and I taught them the technique they couldn’t afford to learn in a studio.”

“Teacher’s daughter?”

“My dad teaches high school physics in Flea Bottom.”

Jaime let out a low whistle. Flea Bottom was the kind of neighborhood his father would direct their driver to avoid. He could well imagine that her classmates couldn’t afford the sort of studio classes they now taught.

Brienne shrugged. “Flea Bottom kids know a thing or two about using dance as anger management. We were all angry about one thing or another.”

“In that case, I probably should have taken up hip hop years ago.”

Brienne smirked and started to head out with her tea. She paused in the door and turned around. “Nah. No sense in wasting that pretty face of yours.”

 

******

 

There was laughter coming from Brienne’s studio. Jaime peeked around the corner to see a few kids he didn’t recognize and one he did. Arya Stark was a spitfire— talented, but with a tendency to mouth off to her teachers, Jaime included. He wasn’t surprised that Arya had taken a liking to Brienne.

 

“All right, we’ll run it again. Remember to pull in your core and lower your center of gravity or you’ll all fall over again.”

 

He watched all three kids settle down, loose knees and tense cores. Brienne counted them in and to his surprise the two boys he had never seen before were better than Arya at…whatever it was they were doing.

 

After a few beats they ran out of choreography and Brienne caught sight of Jaime. “Lannister, you spying on me again?”

“What’s going on? You don’t usually have a class right now.”

Brienne waved a hand towards the boys. “Gendry and Pod have been taking classes from me at the Y for years. When Arya asked for popping lessons I figured I should bring in some experts.” The boys blushed at her praise.

 

“Popping lessons? I don’t suppose I could join in on one of those?”

 

Brienne smirked. “Well, I don’t know, Jaime. It’s not like you have anything to bring to the table. What’s in it for me?”

 

Jaime’s grin was wicked. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can think of something.”


End file.
